


moments of glad grace

by repurposed



Category: Original Work, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-12 21:57:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13556391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/repurposed/pseuds/repurposed
Summary: “How many loved your moments of glad grace,And loved your beauty with love false or true;But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,And loved the sorrows of your changing face.”-W.B. Yeats





	moments of glad grace

**Author's Note:**

> This is a commission from my friend Vika @grotesqueking.tumblr.com! His roleplay blog for Gabriel can be found at @sacrosanctbijou on tumblr.
> 
> Commissions are closed!

The villain had been subpar, B-list, someone who, on an ordinary day, would have been taken out by a younger, more experienced hero while All-Might and his peers - such as they were - dealt with the serious threats concerning the nation. It was really only a freak accident that another one of the faculty members had been cornered by them on his way home from the office - they’d slipped into a taxi and quickly driven the unfortunate hero somewhere he decidedly didn’t want to be.

Toshinori, unsuspecting, had been walking out the back door of a run-down, hole-in-the-wall café at the crucial time with a much-needed triple-shot Americano wrapped in skeletal hands that failed to regulate the burning heat of it. He hadn’t quite processed what he was seeing at first - he only barely, tangentially knew of the man being targeted, thought he had transferred from some foreign country, probably, and his name had the sound of one of those fancy-pants Latin-based angels or saints, although Toshinori didn’t remember what it was. He worked in a lower level, but Toshinori had seen him in passing once or twice, probably, and gotten the feeling that he was a solid enough sort of guy.

He was surprised that Fancy-Pants, as his drained brain decided to identify the man, didn’t utilize his Quirk in defense - was he suppressing it on purpose? How weird. He didn’t recall what the guy’s Quirk actually was, and there seemed a particularly anxious air about him, something different from just distress at being captured.

But a citizen in danger was a citizen in danger, weird or not, and Toshinori had sighed an exponentially tired sigh, deliberately bent down to set his coffee on the pavement and patted it as if to assure it that he would return, and reached deep within himself for the source of his power.

It didn’t take long. The little slimeball had nearly wet their pants in terror upon simply hearing the familiar, booming voice, and Toshinori wondered again how on God’s green earth this Fancy-Pants character hadn’t managed to decimate them already. They were really nothing special, and if the guy was a fellow faculty member, he definitely had a trick or two up his sleeve.

In the aftermath of the almost embarrassingly brief confrontation, Toshinori had resumed his skeletal form quickly, opened his mouth to speak to the man he’d rescued, and promptly spat blood all over his own shoes, making a terribly guttural noise that, if one listened very, very closely to it, could be interpreted as containing a rattling and drawn-out “Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit.”

“I - oh, goodness, I’m so sorry - there was no need to strain yourself - oh no, that’s blood, are you - ” Fancy-Pants began to fill the terribly awkward silence with concerned chatter, and looking up from where he was bent over with his hands balanced on his knees, Toshinori was stunned, then embarrassed, then stunned again. He raised a sleeve to wipe the blood from his chin, remaining still as a statue as the softly accented voice continued to wash anxiously over him. The guy was too pretty - Toshinori felt almost like he’d inserted himself for real into one of the old comics people associated him with, rescuing someone who looked like this.

The guy had fine and striking features, the kind of face you expected to see on a billboard advertising an expensive restaurant. His long blonde hair was done up in a fashionable-looking sort of... braided, swoopy thing - Toshinori wasn’t familiar with the terminology of nice hairdos. It managed to look professional as well as elegant, and the sputtering streetlights behind him filtered through it in an unfairly pretty manner, making him look softly haloed by the otherwise harsh and unpleasant orange glow.

“... really terribly sorry, I can’t believe you went to all this trouble, please tell me you’re alright, at least!” As Toshinori began to snap out of his pretty-guy-induced daze, he realized that said pretty guy’s distressed ramblings were coming to an end. He also realized that he had no earthly idea how long the guy had been talking, and hoped he hadn’t missed anything important. What an excellent first impression to make on someone with this kind of ethereal put-together-ness - scaring off the least intimidating pissbaby of a villain imaginable, vomiting blood, and being too distracted by a pretty face to even listen to what the guy was saying, like some teenage boy.

“Uh... sure thing. Never been better,” Toshinori croaked, straightening his spine with an ungrateful crack and shoving his hands into his pockets. He was blatantly lying, and it probably showed - he’d been in a significant fight earlier in the day, and he’d barely had enough stamina left to face the villain just now - not that he intended to divulge this information to a member of the public, and certainly not to a stupidly gorgeous and sophisticated member of the public who worked in the same building with him.

“Oh... well, I certainly hope so,” Fancy-Pants said dubiously, hugging himself as if he was chilly, despite it being a warm summer night. He was wearing a light, flowing cream-colored jacket that now had smears of dirt along one sleeve, and in his high-heeled boots he stood closer to Toshinori’s height than most people.

“Hey,” said Toshinori almost thoughtfully, recalling his question from earlier, when he’d first laid eyes on the guy. “Not to be rude about it, but I was wondering - you had all the time in the world to use your Quirk on that loser.” Fancy-Pants looked deflated at that, and Toshinori felt suddenly, distinctly like a terrible person. He hadn’t meant it in an insulting manner, he just tended to pay close attention to his coworkers and keep something like a mental log of their Quirks, their strengths and weaknesses, anything he might need to know to better serve alongside them.

“Well, I guess - you’re right, I could have,” the guy said sheepishly, making sheepishness sound far too endearing. “It’s just that... well. There’s a bit of a limit for how long I can use it, so to speak?” Toshinori blinked, interested. That was something all too familiar to him, and perhaps it was part of the reason this Fancy-Pants guy hadn’t reacted with surprise or disgust to the revelation of what he truly looked like.

“I have... well, there are trace amounts of diamond in my blood, and my Quirk involves creating diamonds, you see... so if I use it for too long without taking a break, it can form... growths. Something like tumors?” He looked way too embarrassed for what seemed, to Toshinori, a perfectly reasonable concern, pulling unconsciously at the artfully tied crimson scarf around his neck.

“Man, that can’t be an easy thing to deal with. There’s a couple of kinda similar cases I know of - this one kid’s got an electricity Quirk and he goes a little braindead when he over-uses it. But it’s nothing as serious as yours.” Toshinori realized he was rambling just as much as the guy had been - he couldn’t help it, he wasn’t used to meeting pretty people in this state.

“Well, er - “ Oh no, the guy was blushing. This was terrible. Toshinori folded in on himself in a vain attempt to - be smaller, be less there, and rubbed the back of his neck with a cold hand, studiously avoiding the guy’s stupid-pretty eyes.

“At any rate, thank you for taking pity on me,” Fancy-Pants said, letting out a short, nervous laugh. It so startled Toshinori that he found himself reflexively hacking up a few drops of blood, and he covered his mouth with his already stained sleeve, trying to project a “don’t ask me about it” sort of air.

Apparently his efforts towards protection had succeeded, because shortly afterwards, Fancy-Pants - who Toshinori was beginning to regret labeling with such a snide nickname right off the bat - pulled out a rose gold cell phone - of course he did, what else could Toshinori have expected, everything about the guy screamed pretty and refined - and briefly excused himself, apologizing yet again, to call his close friend - yes, he told Toshinori to the side, covering the speaker with his hand - he did certainly know they were reliable, and there were no concerns to be had about a villain knocking them out and commandeering their car, thank you for asking though - and waved goodbye, managing to look mildly embarrassed and unreasonably humble even as the light glinted off his immaculately done hair and his heels clicked professionally on the pavement.

As he stepped directly over a storm grate, Toshinori noted with resigned awe that he didn’t so much as sway or stumble. Forget diamonds, the guy’s real Quirk must be looking fashionable at all times. Not that Toshinori was watching him go, or that he was paying even minorly close attention, he reminded himself sourly.

If Toshinori hadn’t been exhausted when he left the house, he sure as hell was now. He’d been caught off-guard, having shed thoroughly his ever-present bright smile and warm attitude long before running across the guy - if it were up to him, he’d have met him during some kind of joint class exercise or project, fully transformed and ready to spread cheer and confidence. Instead, this amazingly pretty guy had only seen him that way for a few seconds before the nigh-skeletal, damaged body Toshinori inhabited most of the time had been revealed, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. The guy hadn’t reacted badly, per se, but there was an uncomfortable sense of vulnerability burning quiet and small in his gut, something like an invasion of privacy.

When the sound of the guy walking had faded entirely, and Toshinori was left alone in the back alley behind the café that, tragically, he could no longer slide under the radar at, he was suddenly, blindingly reminded of the lukewarm and unpleasantly settled triple-shot Americano that still waited patiently for him on the concrete.

.

It had been just over a week since the incident, and Toshinori had very nearly convinced himself that the dumb teenage fluttery stuff was only his overworked and caffeine-deprived brain being a dick to him, when he heard a knock on the door to his office.

“Yes, come right in!” He shouted in the generally correct direction, absorbed in the aggressively positive email he was mass-sending to all his coworkers. It had been a strange and disappointing time for what seemed like everyone lately, and he considered it only natural to try and singlehandedly repair their collective morale as much as he possibly could - even if he himself was in something of an uncharacteristic, moody fog at the time. It was weird even for his diminished personality - usually he was knocked down a few pegs upon losing his transformation, but he’d been restless, a little put out, a little more on edge than he typically was, regardless of his form.

The door creaked open - he needed to do something very soon about that sound, office doors falling into disrepair was the last minor nitpicky thing he wanted the staff to have to worry about - and history repeated itself as the inquirer poked his head into Toshinori’s office, and Toshinori spat coffee onto his workdesk, blessedly missing anything that he simply could not have salvaged. It was, he thought with intense resignation, at least half a step up from spitting blood.

“Oh, uh, I’m sorry to intrude - “ The guy he’d known as Fancy-Pants took a tentative step into the office, balancing on a different, but equally aerially impressive pair of shoes, with his hands held deliberately behind his back for some reason. Toshinori waved off his apologies, managing to curb the instinctive coughing fit that reared its head and the burn of black coffee that had made its way into his sinuses. The man was a curse upon coffee of all kinds. Luckily, he was more than beautiful enough to make up for it.

“No, no, it’s just fine! I’m glad you came around.” The guy looked deeply relieved, and - to Toshinori’s utter surprise, cracked a soft half-smile and revealed what was in his clasped hands - he was holding a box wrapped neatly in subtly shimmering, patterned pink cloth, and Toshinori wasn’t sure he could adjust to the knowledge that the unspeakably pretty stranger with the too-relatable Quirk had presented him with an honest-to-god bento box.

“My name’s Gabriel,” he offered after a long pause, suddenly seeming unfairly composed for the awkwardness of the situation. As if he thought Toshinori might not remember, he continued - “We ran into each other a few days ago, and I... think I deprived you of your coffee.” Toshinori snorted helplessly at that, laughing as a reflex at how unreal the whole scenario seemed.

“I guess you already know me, then,” Toshinori said, more as a matter of fact than a boast. People knew him - it came with his trade, and it would be the shock of a lifetime if someone who shared an office building with him was unaware of at least his heroic identity.

“Well - yes, but...” The guy - Gabriel - looked embarrassed, despite the confidence with which he’d presented the bento. “Look, I want to apologize. I know I... well.” He sighed as if trying to piece words together, and it was one of the prettiest sounds Toshinori had ever heard. “I sort of intruded on your personal life, didn’t I? You seemed - out of sorts. I mean, I know I couldn’t have really helped being captured, but...”

The unspoken question of whether or not Gabriel could, in fact, have avoided being captured sat itself heavily down between them, unblinking and awkward. Toshinori wasn’t going to pry, as his own Quirk was the sort that he was loath to explain to his close friends at times, let alone relative strangers, but he knew the nagging curiosity would follow him until he understood - at least, that was the way he justified his leaping sense of relief and happiness at seeing Gabriel again. Wanting to have an important question answered about one of his coworkers’ Quirks wasn’t unreasonable, right? It was only natural, as his self-assigned job was to make sure everyone was safe and had all the accommodations that they needed.

Despite the awkward vulnerability that briefly flashed across his face, Gabriel set the delicately wrapped box down on Toshinori’s desk, somewhat off to the side so as not to look like he was being pushy about it. Something about his manner made the mild discomfort look beautiful, and Toshinori found himself embarrassed and wanting to apologize, even though he was the one who’d been approached randomly in the middle of a workday.

It occurred to him that he was acting terribly out of character - if this situation had been presented to him out of context before he’d ever met Gabriel, he’d have said that he’d happily go along with it, not wanting to turn down a free meal and a chance to spend time with one of his esteemed coworkers, let alone one who was so pretty. But here he sat, and there the bento sat, pink wrapping shimmering innocuously at him. And there Gabriel stood, looking as if he knew Toshinori had something to say, and there hung the promise of a chance to talk alone together, if only Toshinori could stop being so foolish and grasp it.

“Oh, uh - “ he realized Gabriel had been standing for some time, and moved out from behind his desk, gesturing to one of the two office chairs that sat by his small coffee table, which were generally occupied by nervous students who needed a gentle but stern talking-to from someone whose advice they’d actually consider taking. With a gentle, wry smile, Gabriel took the seat across from him, leaning his head on his hand and letting his hair fall across his shoulder, undone from the fancy updo Toshinori had seen the other night.

“I...” Gabriel looked to the side as Toshinori sat down, his expression thoughtful. “We don’t have to go anywhere if you’d rather not, you know. But I figured you probably had some questions. And, well, I was just...” He tilted his head, lips pursed as if to hide a growing smile. “I was surprised to see you... off duty, as it were. I - “ Toshinori turned red at that, looking rather like he wanted to phase through the chair and into the floor. Gabriel, seeing his reaction, flushed as well, waving an elegant hand to try and comfort him.

“No, no, I don’t mean - ! It just made me... interested in getting to know you, is all! There’s definitely nothing wrong with it, or I wouldn’t have come back!” The outburst only heightened the rising blush on his cheeks, and with an unfair level of grace, he raised a hand to his mouth, half-obscuring his expression. Toshinori felt the sudden urge to reach out and take Gabriel’s hand, feeling a dive of giddiness at the thought of holding one of those deft, delicate hands in his own. He thought about whether they’d be warm or cool, about the expression Gabriel might make as he did so. He thought those things might be nice to find out, along with whatever curiosities he had about Gabriel’s quirk - for informational purposes, of course. He was doing his job.

“I, well...” Toshinori glanced over at the glimmering wrapped box that still sat on the end of his desk, then back at Gabriel. “It seems like there’s a lot we could stand to learn about each other, then!” With a smile, genuine even as it was tinged with residual nervousness, he reached over, took one of Gabriel’s hands and held it companionably across the table. It was warm and felt impossibly slight in his own hand, and he gave it a reassuring squeeze.

Gabriel may have been bad luck around coffee, but something told Toshinori that he’d found someone who just might understand him in a rare way.


End file.
